His Memoirs
by toolbox
Summary: When Albus Severus begins his sixth year at Hogwarts, Harry passes down a book that was once Snape's to his son. However, for Albus Severus, the mystical book possesses more than just tips and tricks to potion-making.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes: **First off, this chapter is _not yet_ NC17. In fact, it might not be for a couple of chapters. But it is coming, so I figured I should warn ahead of time. Same with the warnings and genres. And, the "other" character is Albus Severus. There was no Albus Severus option. :p

This idea popped into my head the other day, and I decided to actually write it out. It will either have a sequel, or just be multi-chapter'd. I haven't quite decided.

Here's a bit of background information that you may need before reading on the "new" generation. Or, at least how I've written them:

Albus Severus: will be referred to as Al...6th year Gryffindor.  
Rose Weasley: best friend of Al's...6th year Gryffindor.  
Lorcan Scamander: best friend of Al's...6th year Gryffindor.  
Lysander Scamander: best friend of Al's...6th year Gryffindor.

All of these characters are canon and owned by JK Rowling. I didn't make any of them up. Lorcan and Lysander are the twin sons of Luna Lovegood and Rolf Scamander.

And just as some other notes, this chapter is a little long, because I wanted to get all of the explaining out of the way since it's boring. x] I have also put my twist on all of the characters from the new generation since they were not greatly explained.  
Enjoy!

*

**  
His Memoirs**

It was a perfect summer day. The sun shone brightly; kissing everywhere it touched with bright rays of a light golden hue. The day was incredibly clear; not a cloud was present in the brilliant blue sky. He undid the latch that held his window closed, pushed it open as far as it would go, and breathed in the healthy, clean air, smelling all of the flowers that his mother had planted out in their garden just a couple weeks prior. Yes, everything about today was perfect.

Save for one thing. It was August thirty-first. The last day of his summer holiday. He groaned slightly and his face fell as he walked away from his window to gather up his things in his school trunk.

Albus Severus Potter loved his time away from Hogwarts. It wasn't that he didn't like school, but all of the coursework got to him sometimes, especially since he tried his damned hardest to at least make near the same grades as his best friend, Rose Weasley, who had the top grades out of everyone in their year. By the time June rolled around each and every year, Al nearly hopped, skipped, and jumped to the train. He was always only too eager to go home and finally have a break.

He ran his hand through his dark brown hair as he glanced around his room, trying to remember where he had placed things he'd need for school. Al looked remarkably like his father, Harry. However, Al's hair was just a shade lighter, his bright green eyes were flecked with a tint of hazel, and tanned freckles splattered the bridge of his nose - virtually the only feature that he had received from his mother, other than her eye sight.

He was glad he did not have to wear glasses like his father. They would be one more thing to remember where he had left them over the summer

Just as he grabbed his new school robes from his closet and went to fold them and put them in his trunk, there was a knock at his door. He looked up and saw his father. He smiled, and went back to work. "Hiya, Dad."

Harry took it upon himself to walk into his son's small room, and when he did, he closed the door behind him. Al looked up at his father with a slightly confused look, but did not think much of it. As long as he didn't want to have some lecture with him, then Al didn't mind what this meeting was about.

"Your mother went into Diagon Alley to get your books today and asked me to give them to you," Harry told him simply, pulling a stack of about five books from behind his back as he laid them gently on his son's bed.

Al quickly muttered his thanks as he picked them up to inspect his new textbooks. They were all thick, and probably all had small writing. Of course this year would not be easy. It would be just as much of a headache as fifth year was, if not more. At least he got to drop the classes he had deemed useless when he got a D in Divination and History of Magic and a P in Astronomy on his OWLs.

But, he had noticed something. There were only five books. If he remembered correctly, he needed six. "Hey, my Potions book is missing. Did Mum forget to get it?"

Harry smiled. "Actually, no. The textbook you need for your Potions class was the same one I needed for my Potions class when I went to Hogwarts," his father explained as he pulled yet another book from behind his back. Al could tell that it was old, tattered, and probably written all over because the sides of the pages were splattered with fading black ink. "This book really helped me out in Potions, and I know that it isn't your favorite subject, either. So, I thought we could save a few Galleons and I could just… pass this onto you."

Al gingerly took the book from his fathers hands, and held it like it was something disgusting and foul. He liked his books to be new, crisp, pristine, and what's more - not written on. He had no idea how he would be able to study with something that probably had more footnotes than actual text material. He frowned a little. "Erm, thanks. But why does it look like someone spilled ink all over the pages?"

Harry laughed a little, and Al looked at his father as if he was wondering if he was going insane. "Let's just say that the whole book is a cheat sheet. It's got a lot of handwritten notes in it. Shortcuts. So, follow that instead of the text," Harry smiled widely. "It got me the best marks out of the entire class. Even higher than Aunt Hermione."

Al looked at him with slight disbelief, and then smiled weakly. "Thanks, Dad. Maybe it'll work for me, too," he said, sounding somewhat dismissive as he wrapped his not-so-new textbook in an old shirt, and stored it in his trunk with his other things.

"You want to know something else?" Harry asked his son as he shoved his hands in his pockets and took to looking around Al's nicely-kept room. He heard Al muster what sounded like a _hmm?_ as he looked under his bed for anything that may have dropped and hid under there over the summer. Harry continued, "That book's original owner isn't me. In fact, the first owner was Severus Snape. The Headmaster - and Potions Master - of Hogwarts. Who you were named after."

Al looked up from under his bed at the book in his trunk and suddenly wondered if it was some kind of dark object. While his father never had anything too terrible to say about Severus Snape, he had heard tons of horrible things about him from other people, like his Uncle Ron. All of the stories about how Severus Snape used to serve Voldemort, was a spy, gave his father and his aunt and uncle hell when they were in school… all of that made him somewhat ashamed that he was named after the man.

Why couldn't it have been he that was named after his only too cool grandfather and his father's godfather? Why did it have to be his obnoxious brother who was named James Sirius? He didn't want to live up to the legend that was Albus Dumbledore, and yet, he didn't want to live down to the infamous wizard that was Severus Snape.

"I know Ron says all of these things that Severus Snape did to us while at Hogwarts," Harry started when he saw his son's face fall slightly. "And those things _did_ happen. But Severus Snape was always loyal to Albus Dumbledore, and when he died, it was for the greater good. He was on our side. Ron knows that, too, and I hope you remember that, Al," his father paused, and then spoke quietly. "Your name isn't a burden. You were named after two extraordinary men, and you, too, while be an extraordinary man."

Al nodded weakly, and just barely managed a smile. "Yeah, I know, you tell me that all the time, Dad," he stuck his head back under his bed, and sneezed immediately as all of the dust bunnies under his bed flooded his nose. He sniffed, then spoke. "I really have to get back to packing though, Dad. I'm no where near ready."

"Okay, okay. Make sure that you wash up for dinner in a couple of hours. Your Mum will have a fit if you come downstairs covered in dust," he told Al as he stepped over a small mound of his son's clothes and made his way out of his room, hoping that Al would finally get over his fear of even being remotely connected to Severus Snape.

*

As Al walked down the stairs and to the kitchen, he immediately heard all of the clatter of the guests that his mother had invited over for dinner; all of their friends, whose children were friends with Al and his brother and sister.

His Uncle Ron was the first to catch his eye, being loud and laughing with his father. Ron didn't seem to change much from the pictures Al had seen of him when he was younger, except for the fact that he was about five inches taller, and a tad bit leaner. He still had child-like features, and a kind face. His wife, Hermione, was a head shorter than him, and looked so much better from the pictures Al remembered. Her hair was no longer bushy and out of control, but sleek and wavy with volume and health. She always looked pleasant and friendly, but Al knew better; when Ron acted out of line, Hermione was always the first one to remind him who wore the pants in their relationship. They had two children; Rose and Hugo, and Rose was one of Al's best friends. She was a couple months younger than him, and was a healthy mix of both her mother and father. Her hair resembled Hermione's when she attended Hogwarts, but was Weasley red. Her eyes were a kind, deep honey brown, and her fair skin was sprinkled everywhere with freckles. She acted almost identical to her mother; she was very reasonable most of the time, and also got top marks at school. However, every now and then, she would resemble some of her father's personal qualities. Hugo looked exactly like her, except for the fact that he was a boy and younger than her, and acted nearly the same, but was more like Ron than she was.

His parents' friends, Luna and her husband Rolf, were also there. Al never talked to them much, because they were weird beyond belief, and most of what they said didn't make an ounce of sense to him. However, their twin sons, Lorcan and Lysander, were also two very good friends of his. Lorcan and Lysander managed to actually be quite normal, despite their parents, but were very wise beyond their years when it came to things like common sense. Lorcan was energetic and brave: a picture perfect Gryffindor, whereas Lysander was a bit more of a liberator. Both of them had extremely light blond hair and blue eyes like their mother.

His mother, Ginny, was also there, setting everything she had spent the whole day cooking on the table with help from Hermione and Luna. His mother's hair, which was once bright red, turned more of a copper color as she aged and fell halfway down her back. She had gained a bit of weight from carrying three children that she had yet to work off, but did not seem to mind. She liked to accentuate her curves, and Harry seemed to like it even more. His brother, James Sirius, was joking around with his father and his Uncle Ron. Al was always jealous with how comfortable James was in every situation and how easily he seemed to fit in with everyone. Like him, his brother had dark brown hair, but his eyes were far more hazel, and he had to wear glasses. This didn't seem to bother him, nor did it bother any of the girls that fawned over his seventeen-year-old brother. Girls practically threw themselves at him these days. His sister, Lily Luna, was chatting about the upcoming school year with Hugo. Both of them were fourteen and seemed to be attached at the hip. While Al and James looked so much like their father with traces of their mother, Lily was the spitting image of Ginny, and also, looked remarkably like Harry's mother who she was named after. Her hair was a brilliant copper, but had strands of golden in it the color of sunlight. Her eyes were humble and blue-green, and her face was heavenly.

When Al walked into the kitchen, he was immediately greeted with a hug from Rose, who all but dragged him over to meet Lorcan and Lysander, who were back from a whole summer-long vacation in Greece with their parents.

"How was Greece?" Al asked his two friends as he hugged them both.

"Fantastic!" Lorcan exclaimed loud enough for everyone in the room to hear him.

"But it was dreadfully hot," Lysander explained, showing Al his newly tanned skin. "Also, Mum and Dad didn't find the creatures that they were hoping to find, so we may be going back around Christmas holiday. They believe their mating season is during the summer or something."

James snorted, and Ginny smacked her son on the back of his head to shut him up.

They all sat down to eat a huge meal that could have competed with the feasts that Hogwarts held. Al always enjoyed his mother's cooking a little too much; it was a wonder that he was not pudgy. He supposed he had all of the long Quidditch practices to thank for that, and all of the overtime he spent improving his techniques at the sport. With both his parents playing Quidditch when they were at Hogwarts, it was only natural that he, and his siblings would as well. They made up three out of the seven players on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team.

"My Dad gave me this weird textbook today that we need for Potions," Al told his three friends as he shoveled food into his mouth. He was dreadfully hungry.

"_Advanced Potion-Making?_" Rose asked him after she swallowed the food she was chewing. "What's so weird about it?"

"Other than the fact that it's a Potion book, of course," Lysander said simply.

"That would make it horrible, not weird," Lorcan corrected him.

Al laughed a little, then continued, "Well, it's really old. My Dad used it when he was in school. And apparently it belonged to Snape.

They all stopped eating and exchanged looks. "You mean, the git?" Lorcan and Lysander asked together. Rose rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, the one I'm named after," Al told them as he stabbed his potatoes. "I dunno why my Dad gave it to me. He knows as well as everyone that I don't want anything to do with Snape."

Rose sighed. "Really, Al, you shouldn't be so judgmental. I know that my Dad says tons of bad things about him, but he can't be that bad. Clearly your father thinks very highly of him, so there has to be something that someone isn't telling us about him."

Lorcan dismissed Rose's word of reason, and went on. "So, what's so weird about the book?"

"Oh, well it's got all of this writing all over it. Dad said it was notes to making better potions, and that I should follow it instead," He popped a couple of potatoes into his mouth and ate them. "Apparently it got him top marks."

"You better let us borrow it, then!" Lorcan and Lysander said together, smiling widely, and Lorcan continued. "Man, you have the coolest Dad ever. Mine would never give me anything that would make learning easier."

Rose sighed again. "And neither should Al's Dad. He's jeopardizing your education, Al. I don't think you should follow it. Just go by the book like everyone else."

"Rose, don't be silly," Lysander interjected, rolling his eyes, but she didn't see. "The rest of us already have a hard enough time keeping up with you and your brilliance. A bit of extra help in our worst subject could really do us some good."

Rose didn't seem convinced. "Are you sure it isn't some kind of dark object?" Rose asked Al very seriously.

"Wait a minute! You just said that we shouldn't judge Snape! Look who's talking!" Lorcan told her at once as he nudged her in the shoulder. She didn't wince, but instead, swatted him back. "Besides, Al's Dad would never give him a dark object."

"What if he didn't know?" Rose asked.

"He's an Auror, Rose!" Lysander nearly shouted at her, and food fell out of his mouth.

Al sighed. Sometimes the three of them fought like cats and dogs. Or a cat and two dogs. "My Dad said it wasn't anything dark. It's just going to be a bit of a pain deciphering the text, I guess."

As Lorcan, Lysander, and Rose continued talking about the next day - their first day of school being sixth years - Al continued thinking about the weird potion book. It had to house some kind of magic. He had all but dismissed the textbook. He had even packed it away safely, deep in his trunk, without so much as looking at it. But he could not get the book, or Severus Snape, out of his mind.

He felt mildly scared of the power the book already seemed to have over him, but he quickly got over it. It was silly to think that the textbook had some kind of influence over him. He turned back to his food and started eating again, figuring that the fact he felt so weird was because he was hungry.

Thankfully, he went the rest of the night without thinking about the potion book, or the Potion Master.

___

**  
I will try and get the next chapter up ASAP, but I have finals coming up. I hope you enjoyed! Tell me what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I am finally off from school, so I will probably be updating it a lot. I know it's slow so far because I haven't gotten into the good stuff, but oh well!**

**Thanks to the people who added me as their favorite authors! I would love some feedback, too! ;)**

**I will update asap! I hope you enjoy! **

**_**

**Chapter 2  
**

Al was back at Hogwarts for another year. Back to school, back to his back-to-back classes, and back to his mountain of homework that was already growing to be a monster on the first day.

And he was ten minutes late to his Potions class. Perfect.

Losing track of time was one of Al's more prominent flaws; he wore a watch, but he never bothered looking at it. It was too easy for him to get lost in his thoughts, especially since he had that damned textbook to worry about.

As he pushed through seas of students going up to other floors, Al ran down to the dungeons and through the door where he was sure to interrupt his class. He had prepared an apology for his professor, but the teacher who he had all five years he attended Hogwarts was not standing at the front of the class. Instead, it was a woman.

She was rather curvy, almost heavyset, but not enough that it would be unattractive. She had a full bosom, a small waist, and wide hips. Her hair was a honey brown and in wide, natural curls that fell down to about the middle of her back. Her eyes were a pale gray, and her face was round and friendly. She was young; maybe only a couple of years older than them, and Al immediately felt somewhat attracted to her.

Apparently him being late didn't seem to phase her much, though. All she did was smile at him and point him to his seat next to Rose as if she had been expecting him all along.

"Where have you _been_? You're nearly fifteen minutes late!" Rose spat at him from under her breath as she removed all of her textbooks and notebooks from the empty desk next to her.

"Lost track of time," Al explained and sat down before he caused anymore distraction to the class. "Who's she?"

Before Rose could continue, the woman spoke.

"As I was saying," the woman spoke as she addressed the class again. "My name is Agatha. Agatha Snape," Al squeaked slightly at her name, and Rose glared at him from the corner of her eyes. "I am sure that my surname may be familiar to some of you who maybe had parents who attended Hogwarts. I am a rather distant cousin of the late Severus Snape who used to teach Potions here a fair bit of years ago."

Everyone gasped a little, but Lorcan did speak in what was not exactly a whisper. "How is it that _she_ is related to Snape? He wasn't exactly a handsome man, and she's definitely a looker."

Agatha didn't seem all that amused, but again, she looked as though she had been expecting reactions like that. She was beautiful and confident. Perhaps that was why Rose was huffing under her breath next to him.

"I will be taking over this class as your previous professor has decided to retire, but please, call me Agatha, or Professor Agatha if you must," she said with a smile. Perhaps she, too, realized that Professor Snape left a sour taste. There definitely was nothing sour about her.

Al sighed, and smiled simply at Agatha as he continued to listen to her. Time would definitely stand still for him while she was around.

Rose ripped out a piece of paper from her notebook as Agatha continued to talk about the course guidelines and the syllabus she had drawn out for them. She scribbled something with her ballpoint pen, and passed it to Al.

She had to nudge him in the arm _and_ point at the sheet of paper to get him to realize it. She rolled her eyes.

Al looked down at the piece of paper and read what Rose had written:

"_Put your tongue back in your mouth and stop slobbering over her. She's our teacher!"_

Al, too, rolled his eyes as he snatched up Rose's pen.

"_Don't be mean, Rosey. You have to admit, she's the best looking professor here! Do you think she's part Veela?"_

"_Veela? Don't be stupid, Al! Look at her hair; it's dark! And her skin is tanned. And besides, if she was part Veela, that'd probably mean that Snape was, too."_

"_Good point. That would probably defy the rules of science."_

"_I am sure _Agatha_ thinks very highly of her cousin-twice-removed-whatever-they-are."_

"_Doubt it. I think my Dad is probably the only one that thinks 'very highly' of Snape. Oh, but speaking of Snape, do you think that I should show her that textbook I have? She might be interested."_

"_Yeah, you'd look for any reason to stay after class with her, wouldn't you?"_

"_No, I don't mean it like that, Rosey! I just think that maybe she'd like to see it. Don't you? I mean, the guy _was _her cousin-whatever."_

"_Yeah, good point. You don't have the confidence to manage to utter a word with her when it is just the two of you, I'm sure. And anyway, I wouldn't show her the book. At least, not unless you want it to be confiscated."_

"_Haha. Why do you think she'd confiscate it?"_

"_Think about it, Al. While your dad says it doesn't have dark magic - and hey, maybe he's right - it does _clearly _have some kind of magic. She'd probably turn it into Headmistress McGonagall or something."_

"_Doubt it! She doesn't seem the type."_

"_She's a _teacher_, so it's her job to be that type. And besides, she's talking about your beloved book. Maybe we should pay attention?"_

Al crumbled the piece of paper, and turned his attention back to Agatha. She was deep in speech about what to expect this year, and what every student would need. "I will be teaching from _Advanced Potion-Making_, which you all should have picked up a copy of. If you don't have one, I have a couple of extras, but my supply is limited and they are in horrible condition with handwriting all over the pages," she said, and peered over at Al with a smile. His breath hitched.

Had she known about the book? No, she couldn't have. As far as he knew, his father always had it. Al didn't see what was so special about it, so why would Snape had mentioned it to his cousin, or anyone? It couldn't matter that much.

But it did matter. Al didn't want to believe it, but he knew that the book contained some kind of magic. He could feel a coolness against his palms as he held it in his hands that had nothing to do with him being in the dungeons; the book always seemed like it had been stored in the refrigerator for safe-keeping. That, and as hard as he tried to look at Agatha and pay attention, he kept his gaze glued to the book. It was like it had kept him in some kind of trance.

Rose kicked him from underneath the desk, and he dropped the book. He was able to focus, but it was still in the back of his mind. "This year, I am sure, you will find to be quite difficult. I want to readily prepare you for your seventh year with me, which I can assure you, will not be easy. Every time you step in this class, you will be required to produce a new potion unless the potion requires the contents to sit for an extended period of time, and I will let you know if that is the case. After every class, I want you to write one page about what you learned in that class, or from the text, and how you applied it to your potion-making. After we complete a potion, I will ask you to write a detailed report on whether or not you think that potion is important for current potion-making and medicine."

Lorcan's mouth was hanging open at the load of work, and Lysander whispered over to Al, "It's a _damn _good thing you've got that textbook for us!"

Al's eyes flashed at Agatha, hoping she didn't hear what Lysander had said. She simply smiled and turned her back on Al, leaving him looking utterly confused, but it didn't surprise him that she was also peculiar. Strange Snapes.

Agatha had assigned them a new potion to do that neither of his three friends had heard of, including Rose. Lorcan groaned as he walked to the front of the class and grabbed ingredients for the four of them, and Rose flipped through her own _Advanced Potion-Making_ text. She frowned.

"What is it?" Al asked her as he flipped to page seven, where the potion's directions were printed alongside scribbled hand-written suggestions.

"I haven't heard of a single potion in here. Well, except for a few that I never thought we'd learn at school! There's Felix Felicis in here. I had always figured that it'd be banned from Hogwarts or something," Rose told them.

"Then aren't you glad Al's got that book?" Lysander asked as he leaned over Al's shoulder and mumbled to himself as he tried to decipher the handwriting. "Wait, how the _hell_ are you supposed to read this? It looks like a five-year-old wrote it."

Rose rolled her eyes. "Good. You shouldn't be using it, no matter how hard this year is going to be."

"C'mon, Rosey. You know you want to use it, too!" Lorcan joked as he rejoined them with armfuls of ingredients.

The four of them chattered, and at first, tried to follow the actual directions of the book, as well as what Agatha had written on the board. The directions weren't exactly hard, but it was like the potion they were making was picky; the ingredients had to be just so, and many of them had to be extracted. The potion had to be stirred a certain way and for a certain length of time, and if you did it perfectly, then you were on the right track.

Al definitely wasn't on the right track, and it seemed like Rose, Lorcan, and Lysander were all struggling.

"We're going to be here all day to get our potions to simmer the right way," Lorcan said with a groan as he rested his head on one hand, and weakly stirred his potion the wrong direction with the other.

"Maybe it's because you're supposed to stir it the other way, Lor." Rose said as she rolled her eyes and added a handful of things to her potion. It seemed to spat at her, but at least was close to the right consistency.

The four of them worked in silence as they all desperately tried to make their potions correctly. Al wiped the swear that had accumulated on his forehead on the sleeve of his robes. When he looked up to see the board for the next step, he noticed that Agatha was standing in front of him. He dropped his cutting knife in his potion. It turned a violent red and gurgled.

"Hmm, well, that was not an ingredient, Mr. Potter. I'm sorry to have frightened you," Agatha said with a smile as she folded her arms over her chest. "I actually came to ask something. May I have a word with you in my office?"

Without looking at the blank look of his friends, Al rose from his desk and started to follow Agatha, but she stopped him with a delicate hand pressed firmly to his shoulder. "Ah, I would like you to also bring your textbook, Mr. Potter, please."

He hesitated, but nodded as he scooped up his book and held it to his chest and followed her like a lost puppy back to her office. He didn't mind talking to her, but he wasn't sure if he could surrender his textbook over to her. Especially since it had once belonged to his father.

Her office was very comfortable, and closely resembled the Gryffindor Common Room. The floors were made of hardwood, so unlike a regular dungeon, and her walls had a beautiful sort of print in a burgundy red and cream color. All of her furniture seemed comfortable enough to sleep in, and instead of having a desk, she had several lap tables.

Agatha pointed to her large couch and invited Al to sit down. As he did, he still had a stranglehold on the book in his hands, even though they were starting to go numb from holding it, it was so cold.

"So, Mr. Potter, I am aware that you are Harry Potter's son," Agatha said, looking down at him with a smile.

Al looked a tiny bit confused; he wasn't expecting a statement like that. He thought it was common knowledge. "Erm, that's right, Professor Agatha."

"And, as I understand, your whole name is Albus Severus Potter?" Agatha asked.

Al flinched a little. "Um, yeah, that's my full name, but I just like to go by Al if that's okay, Professor Agatha."

She smiled. He hesitated, and looked back at his book that immediately stole his attention. All he could do was listen to Agatha; his eyes had no hope or intention of looking at her. "Alright, Al, but in the classroom, I will address you as Mr. Potter," she gave a tiny stifled giggle, and went tense. "However, I did not ask you to come back to talk to you about what to call you. I asked you to come to my office to talk about that book you're holding, Al."

Al looked up at her for a second, and then looked back down at the book that felt like a block of ice in his hands. "What about it? It's just a… regular textbook. The one you had asked me to purchase, Professor Agatha."

Agatha laughed a bit. "You and I both know, Al, that it is not a regular textbook," her voice went serious again. "I know who it originally belonged to and I know that your father passed it down to you. I don't intend to take it from you, or to ask you not to use it," she paused, and Al looked at her. Her eyes were wide and concerned, and glued to the book in his lap. He wondered if that's what he looked like whenever he was staring at it. "It's just… well, that book is definitely _not_ a regular textbook. Be careful with how you use it, Al."

So he was right. It had magic. At least he wasn't going crazy. "Um, Professor Agatha, can you please tell me how it is not a regular textbook? Do you know?"

"That is something for you to discover, Al. It was passed down to you, not me, and the book seems as much taken with you as you are with it," Agatha said, tightening her arms around her body as she forced herself to look back up at Al. "It won't hold the same power over me as it does you. It's odd," she told him, and ran her finger across the front of the book. Nothing. It felt like a regular book. She sighed. "You're dismissed. I daresay you're due for your next class in a few short minutes, so you better get a move on."

Al nodded, and quickly ran out of her office to face an abandoned classroom. He stored the book safely in his bag, and rushed out of the dungeons and up the stairs to Transfiguration.

As he took the stairs three at a time, he thought of the strange textbook and absentmindedly caressed it in his bag. He was absolutely certain now, more than ever, that it did contain magic, and what's more, it seemed to only work to its greatest potential with him.

But why? He didn't understand.

-

**Thanks for reading! Tell me what you think! ;)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**_**

"What? You have to come down to the feast. You haven't had anything to eat since this morning," Rose explained when Al had told them that he wanted to head straight to the Gryffindor Common Room without dinner.

"But, I am not really hungry, guys," Al said just as his stomach gave a loud, audible growl.

"Right, well, I think your stomach says otherwise," Lysander said with a smirk.

"If you don't want to eat, then you can at least join us!"

"But, there's something I really want to do," Al said in a weak tone, trying his best to avoid Rose's gaze. "I have… a lot of homework, and I want to get started on it so I am not up half the night."

"You actually want to skip a meal to do _homework_?" Lorcan asked with disbelief. His stomach growled.

"Did Agatha slip you something when you were in her office?" Lysander said, finishing what Lorcan was thinking.

Al laughed weakly, and diverted his eyes. He had to find a way back up to the Common Room. He desperately wanted to know more about his special book, and even about Severus Snape when he was Al's age. He furrowed his brows as he contemplated faking an illness, but he knew they'd figure him out immediately. He was a hopeless case.

Rose gasped and glared at Al. "You're wanting to skip dinner to look at that damn _book_, don't you?"

Lorcan howled with laughter. "Why would Al do something like that? I mean, yeah, that book is going to be handy, but Al certainly doesn't want to _study _it. It is a cheat book after all! Studying defeats its purpose."

Rose ignored Lorcan. "It's true, isn't it, Al?"

Al rolled his eyes. His lips turned into a line as he tossed his hands into the air. "So what if I do? What does it matter?" he realized he had acted slightly out of line and immediately blushed. "Sorry, it's just that… well, Agatha told me some things and I am just really interested in what she had to say. I'm just curious."

"Mate, there's time to be curious after you've eaten something. It can't be that important," Lysander said in an understanding sort of way, but he was looking at Al like he was going crazy.

Al looked down at his leather bag that held the book to his body. He ran his hand gently over the leather. He could feel the corners of the book, the delicate binding that had deteriorated over time, even the coolness through the fabric. Nothing seemed important to him. Not food, not what his friends were saying, nothing. Maybe he was going crazy.

Rose's eyes grew wide and she yanked Al's hand away from his bag and dragged him in the direction of the Great Hall. "You're coming whether you like it or not, Al."

The two twins followed them close by, and whispered to each other soft enough so that only they could hear it.

"Did you see how he was… _touching_… that thing?"

"Yeah, like he was caressing his first born child or something."

"D'you think Rose is right? That it's dangerous? Al's really changed a lot since he got it, and it's like he is starting to have _feelings_ for that book the closer he gets to it."

"That's crazy."

"But Ly, that's how he's _acting_. Like he's crazy."

"Well, whatever is going on, that book is no good."

*

As soon as the four of them made it back to the Gryffindor Common Room (Lysander had to travel under the Invisibility Cloak that Al's father had bought for him. It wasn't as nice as Harry's, but it did the job nonetheless), Al zipped past them in a hurry to get up to his dormitory. He was clutching the book in his bag as if he was holding it - protecting it - from a beating against his thigh as he took the stairs two at a time. Instead of the twins following Al, they pulled Rose to the side far enough away from everyone else so that they would not be overheard.

"We have something to tell you," Lysander said immediately, sounding quite serious as his hand clutched Rose's right shoulder.

"Al's having a baby!" Lorcan explained sarcastically as he clapped with fake joy.

Rose blinked and looked at the two of them as if she had never seen a set of twins before. "What… are you two talking about?" she asked, confused, but clearly trying her best to stifle a laugh when she looked at Lorcan.

"His book! It's his baby!"

Lysander rolled his eyes. "What Lor means is," he started, nudging his brother in the side with his sharp elbow. "Is that Al's a little too close to that book. I mean, it's _creepy_. He _caresses_ it. And we think he's obsessed with it or something."

Rose didn't try to hide her giggle this time; in fact, she nearly snorted. "Of course he is, Ly. I mean, it's _obvious_. He's acting so… crazy. But he won't listen to us, so what are we supposed to do?"

"Don't you think we should at least try? Report it or something?" Lysander asked, his eyes widened with disbelief.

Rose smiled weakly and shrugged her shoulders. "Of course we _should_ report it, but it won't do any good. Whenever he's with that book, he is not reasonable. And he is always going to _try_ and be with that book, if tonight wasn't enough proof of that."

One of Lorcan's eyebrows raised and his head cocked slightly to the side. "Well, if we turn it in, maybe someone actually can confiscate it."

Rose shrugged again. Clearly she was already defeated, or else she would have already run up the stairs after Al to knock some sense into him. "I really don't think it's going to do much good. He'll still try and find it. I don't think he's caressing it for his health, or because he's crazy. There seems to be some kind of… connection."

"Connection?" Lysander questioned softly, slowly.

"Now you sound crazy, Rosey."

"It's so unlike Al to act like this. There has to be a reason for his behavior, and I don't think it's him," Rose said with a sigh. "It's that book that's to blame."

*

Al finally made it to his dormitory. He scanned the room quickly, and when he was certain that no one else was there, he closed the door shut behind him and locked it. He ran to his bed and gently put down his bag as he sat across from it and drew his curtains around the two of them.

He drew in a quick breath and opened it; a chill ran down his spine as the coolness from the book touched his face. He gently ran his fingers over the writing on the pages, thinking - expecting - for something to happen. He shut his eyes as he stilled his touch over the words _Half-Blood Prince_, and he held his breath.

But nothing happened.

His eyes opened, and he sighed. Al flipped through all of the pages frantically, looking for anything out of the ordinary that might be a hint to whatever it was he was looking for; he didn't quite know yet.

But he found nothing.

He had flipped through the book front to back at least three times, studied the cover and the binding, reversed the book to read upside down, and nothing seemed odd about it other than all of the notes it had.

Al groaned in frustration as he flipped the book back to where it had been addressed to the Half-Blood Prince, and stared at it. Maybe the only magic that it would ever possess for him was the coolness that had emulated from it.

He figured it'd be best if he gave up on the book for tonight until he knew more about it. He'd just have to go see Agatha tomorrow and try and get some more information out of her. He pulled out a spare piece of parchment from his bag and a quill that was slightly bent in the wrong direction from lack of care.

He reached over for the ink well on his bedside table and dipped the tip of his quill into it. Al brought it back over to his piece of parchment, which he had rested on top of his book. If he wanted to go see Agatha, he needed to remind himself.

He held the quill over his piece of parchment as he thought about the right time to go and see her. As he did, ink from his quill welled up into one large, black drop and fell down onto one of the open pages of _Advanced Potion-Making_.

As soon as Al heard the ink drop onto his book, he knew immediately that he had discovered what he was looking for. He felt a tug all over his body, pulling him forward, welcoming him in the direction of his book. All he had to do was lean forward just slightly, and his body gave in to the unknown strength that was pulling him down, down, down…

Until he landed on a hard, stone floor with a thud, followed immediately by a groan from him. His knee smacked against the stone below him, as did the side of his forehead. Al's arm, which was sprawled out in an odd direction above his head, came to caress the side of his face where it had collided with the stone. He winced in pain.

Hold on. Stone. Stone meant he was no longer in his dormitory, or the Gryffindor Tower for that matter. Then where was he?

Al looked up only slightly, and he saw a pair of black shoes that were stained with clumps of dried mud in front of him. He looked up some more; two thin legs that had columns of black trousers to protect their scrawniness. An off-white shirt, likely from unknown stains, untucked, and his gray vest that had lines of silver and green along the hem had several holes, from burns, scattered across the all but destroyed fabric. His hair was to his shoulders and had a sort of damp look, and Al wondered if the reason he didn't wear his school robes was because he was sweating from being so hot. His skin was pale, his nose was hooked, and his eyes were a cool black. Cool. It reminded him of the coolness from the book.

When Al's eye's met the person's standing before him, the stranger spoke. "I've been waiting for you, Albus."


	4. Chapter 4

Hi everyone! I just wanted to say that I am sorry it took me so long to upload the next chapter. Not to get into too many details, I've recently been dealing with a break-up from a serious relationship that was supposed to lead towards marriage and a life with the man I loved. Well, that didn't work, and having a broken heart really sucks! I forgot, however, that writing makes me feel better, so hopefully I'll continue updating this periodically.

I hope you all are doing fantastic, and again, I am sorry for the long wait. I hope you all are happy to know that I will be updating two chapters at once, though!

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 4**

__________

Al wasn't quite sure what he was expecting the book to do, but it surely did not fall along these lines. Severus Snape stood in front of him; solid, sixteen, and not dead. He seemed real, and Al couldn't remember to move. All he could do was stare at Severus Snape and know he was going crazy.

Severus Snape, however, did not stare back at him. Not directly, anyway.

His mind was going a thousand miles a minute. How did he know his name? Hell, when Severus Snape was sixteen, he didn't even know who Al's father was. This truly had to be some kind of dark magic. Rose was right.

Al turned his head and scanned the floor he was lying on for the Potions book, but there was nothing except the quill he was holding just minutes before, resting a few inches from his right hand. He stretched his hand out and grasped it with his fingers.

"Well, aren't you going to get up?" Severus Snape asked him as he peered down to the mess that was Al spread across the stone floor of the Hogwarts dungeons. His face was scrunched up and ugly with mild boredom.

Al blinked back up at Severus and struggled his way to his feet and tried to regain his balance. He looked down at the quill in his hand and felt awkward holding it. "Keep that, Potter. It's the only way you'll be able to go back to your time," Severus Snape told him in a deep voice that still cracked here and there. "That is, if you want to go back."

"How is this quill going to bring me anywhere?" Al asked in an escalated tone. He wasn't mad; he wasn't sure what he was other than impossibly confused. He wondered if this was some sort of trick Agatha was playing on him. Or maybe his Dad. Maybe both.

"Well, the same way you got here, Potter," Severus said lamely with a shrug of his shoulder. "Just tap it and let the ink fall down. Then you will go back."

Al thought for a brief moment that he should try it. Tap it and let the ink fall. He figured it would be worth a shot, and he definitely needed to get the hell out of here before he went even more insane. He reached his hand back in his pocket, pulled out the quill, and held it between his index finger and his thumb. Lifting up his index finger, he held his breath and went to tap it.

"Wait, you can't leave yet," Severus said at once, and his large, strong, cool hand grasped Al's to keep it from moving any farther. With his other hand, he caught the droplet of ink that fell from the tip of the quill. It bled onto his skin, but Al was still standing in front of him. "We still have a lot to talk about."

Al looked down at the hand that was holding onto his, and was shocked at how real it felt. He could feel Severus's sweaty palms, the lines in his hands and the curves of his long, thin fingers, and his cool touch that made Al shiver. He seemed so real, but Al knew he was dead. He felt dead. He was cold enough. "We have to talk?"

"Yeah, well, we don't _have_ to do anything, but you've finally figured out how to get here. I've been waiting ever since you got my book," Severus told him simply, and let go of Al's hand.

Al wondered if Severus would stop him again if he tried to go back now. "What did you want to talk about?" Al asked stupidly, and decided against his better judgment to put the quill back in his pocket.

"Well, we can't talk here. A class is about to let out, and it would not be good for me if we were overheard," Severus told him simply, grasped Al's hand again, and led him off in an entirely different direction. Al wasn't that accustomed with the dungeons of Hogwarts, but even if he was, he still wouldn't know where they were going. Hogwarts looked so different back then. Then stone walls were newer, the lights of the halls shone slightly duller, and the corridors were quieter. Al wondered what kind of Headmaster must be running the school. Was it Dumbledore?

"Where are we going?" Al questioned when he remembered how to speak. His mouth felt slightly numb and his heart was pounding against his chest. Every step they took, Al's hand inched closer to his pocket where he knew that his supposed saving grace was held.

"An empty chamber, classroom, anywhere we won't be overheard," Severus told him as he dragged Al along behind him. As he passed open doorways, he peered in to see if they were unoccupied enough for his tastes.

"I can walk on my own," Al told him as he tried to struggle his hand free from Severus Snape's grasp, but all Severus did was snort and grab onto Al's hand with a firmer grip.

When Severus Snape finally found an abandoned room that he wanted, he stopped on a dime and Al ran into his back so hard that it nearly knocked him off his feet. Al groaned, but managed to pull his hand from Severus's and glared at the boy as he walked into the classroom.

Severus shut and locked the door behind them with a few spells, some of which Al had never heard before. He gulped. With every passing moment, he thought for sure that it was a bad idea to stay.

At first, Severus Snape didn't say anything. All he did was stare at Al as he sat down on one of the twenty or so chairs in the classroom, watch his hand graze over the pocket of his trousers, his arm tense at his sides, his foot tap in nervousness, and his lips pull into a stern line. When Al's eyes moved to meet his, Severus quickly looked at the floor and spoke, "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for you to finally figure out how to get into my book."

Al blinked at him. "How did you even know that the book was mine?"

Severus's jaw clenched. "That book is mine, and how I knew you had it was because it was practically obvious that your father would pass it down to you."

"Then did you put all of the spells on it to make it magical?" Al asked as his brows furrowed.

"Spells?" Severus asked with what Al thought must have been a snicker. "It's not exactly a spell that has been placed on it."

"Then what is it?" Al's mouth was hanging open slightly. He gripped the edges of the desk he was sitting at, and Severus noticed that his knuckles were white.

"I can't tell you. It's something that you'll figure out eventually," Severus told Al as the corners of his mouth turned up slightly in a wonky sort of smile. "Hopefully."

Al liked the Potions book a lot more when it didn't talk back to him. Severus Snape was starting to get on his nerves.

The two of them sat in silence; Severus was waiting for Al to bring up his next question, but Al refused to talk to Severus. His hand kept going back to his pocket like some kind of nervous twitch, but each time he thought to himself _now is the time to go back_, he figured that it wouldn't kill him to stay a minute longer.

Al gave up and broke the silence when it rang too loud in his ears, "Why me?"

"What do you mean?" Severus asked, sitting on top of the desk across from Al, who shuffled uncomfortably in his seat at how close Severus was to him. He was supposed to be dead, after all, even though he didn't look or smell like he was.

_Because he's not dead now, _Al thought to himself, _he's just his sixteen-year-old self. _"Why are you trapped in a book that I'd inherit?"

Severus didn't speak at first. His black eyes glazed over and he looked at the floor. Al guessed that he was thinking very hard of an answer, and when his forehead waved with worry-wrinkles, Al was certain that he wouldn't be getting whatever answer he was thinking. But Severus's mouth was open, and he was speaking in a low voice, "Your eyes are the brightest of green, Albus Severus Potter, did you know that? Like your _father's_," he said, and Al thought that he had spat some on the last word he spoke, "Like his mother's."

Al's mouth hung open slightly. How was that answer supposed to give him any kind of information? Was it even an answer? "Er, what does that have to do with me getting the book?"

Severus sighed and chuckled a bit; derange dripped from Severus's every sound like a fatal poison. "Write your father about this meeting, but don't give him too many details."

"Why?" Al asked, trying not to hold his breath.

"Perhaps your father could provide answers that I cannot," Severus said simply, his eyes focused only on his folded hands in his lap. It was then that Al noticed that the whole time he had been trapped inside this bloody book that Severus Snape would not look him directly in his eyes whenever Al was looking at him. He never got a good look at Severus's eyes, except one that was long enough for him to deduct that they were black. Al wondered why this was, but guessed that it probably had something to do with them being blank with death. Perhaps that was the only way you could tell that the figure standing in front of him was something far different than real and actual.

In a wild moment, Al wished their eyes would meet, but all Severus did was avoid him. He'd look at the space between his eyes, his eyebrows, the tip of his nose, the structure of his cheekbones, anywhere but his green eyes that he had commented on.

"You should probably get back, Potter. You've been gone for a while," Severus told him as he got up from the desk he was sitting on and walked to the doorway of the quiet classroom. "Come back and see me. I'll be waiting."

And then he was gone.

Al sat frozen for a while in a world that toyed with reality and what he figured was make-believe. Everything around him seemed real, but that couldn't be because _he_ was real. So this all had to be made-up. Drawn to life.

Severus Snape was the artist. He was the one with the pencil in his hand.

Al clutched his head at how crazy this was. He pushed his hand into his pocket, and as he withdrew the quill, he promised himself that if doing what Severus Snape told him to brought him back to his time, that he'd never, ever, travel back here again. No matter how curious he was or how much Severus Snape wanted to see him again. He could wait. He could wait for an eternity, but nothing would change. Maybe it was a good thing that Severus was dead; he had all the time in the world and whatever sort of cruel purgatory his battered soul was trapped in that allowed him to torture Albus Severus through the means of his old Potions book.

Al held the quill out in front of his bright green eyes, tapped it lightly with his finger, and he was falling again.

*

Al was back on his bed with his potions book sprawled out in front of him and his quill in his hand. He dropped the quill like it was molten lava hot in his hand. Al brought his hands up to his face and touched his mouth, nose, around his eyes and forehead. It had worked and he was back.

Al slammed the book shut and tossed it to the floor along with the quill. He cursed himself for being too curious for his own good. All it did was get him sucked into Potions books that got him stuck in different realities.

The door to his dormitory pushed open, and Al bolted up so that he was standing next to his bed; wand in hand. Lorcan walked through, and his eyes bulged slightly when he saw his friend in such a stance. "Um, Al? It's just me, mate."

Al sighed and lowered his wand. "Sorry, I just thought it was someone else," when he noticed how strange he had sounded, his mind worked quickly to try and come up with some sort of excuse. "Rose or someone. Coming to lecture me about my book."

_My book_, he thought. He looked down, and the Potions book was at his feet. He kicked it under his bed.

"Oh," Lorcan said, nodding as if he understood completely. "Nah, it's just me. I forgot that my Mum wanted me to write her when we got here."

"_Write your father about this meeting, but don't give him too many details_," Al thought, and wondered if he should or not.

Lorcan stared at him. "You sure you're okay, Al?"

"What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine," Al said as he turned back to his bedside table and dropped his wand. "I just remembered that I promised to write my Dad."

"Parents," Lorcan said with a roll of his eyes, and he knelt down to dig through his trunk for things to write with.

Al reached for a piece of spare parchment and a quill from his bedside table. He didn't want to write to his father, and he had no idea what to say, but he had no way out of now.

He considered for a moment, and then started to write:

"_Dad,_

_First day back has been pretty hectic. I've already got a lot of homework to do. James and Lily are doing well, I imagine. James has his own friends and Lily doesn't think it's cool to talk to her brothers at school, so I don't talk to either of them too much. Rose, Lorcan, and Lysander all say hi, though._

_What I actually meant to write to you about was the Potions book you gave me. This is going to sound really weird, but I think that thing must be magical. When I touch it, it feels cold, but I don't think it does that to anyone else because Rose and the twins haven't commented on it. It's like the book has – feelings – that only I can read. Something really strange happened with the book today. I am not even sure what it was, or if it was real. I don't know how to explain it, but I think I was transported to a different time. I am sure you think I am insane for saying that, so I won't give any more details._

_I just want you to know that it's acting funny. I think I am meant to tell you that. And I am also a little scared to use it. I wish you'd send me a new one. _

_Hope you and Mum are doing well,_

_Al_"

He dropped his quill and read over his letter. Al hoped that Severus Snape was right, and that maybe his father could give him some answers.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

*

An owl from Hogwarts blew through the kitchen window and landed gracefully on top of the faucet. Ginny was in the kitchen, cooking up a lunch for her and her husband. She dropped the knife in her hand that was coated in a thin layer of mayonnaise and reached over to pry the letter from the owl's talons.

Ginny read who the letter was addressed to and who it was from. She frowned; usually if Al wrote then it was to the both of them. She had a twinge of jealousy as she finished making their sandwiches and brought them and the letter back to their family room where Harry was reclining on the couch, reading the Daily Prophet.

"You've got a letter," Ginny announced, and she went to sit by her husband. "It's from Al."

Harry sat up and looked at her with a perked eyebrow. "It's just addressed to me?" When she nodded and passed it over, he took it hesitantly from her hand. "That's odd. I wonder if it has to do with what I gave him before he went to Hogwarts."

"What did you give him?" Ginny asked, as she passed over Harry's sandwich. "You didn't tell me that you gave him something special."

Harry frowned a bit in thought and his fingers graced over the folds and creases of the envelope. "I just gave him Snape's Potions book that I used when I was in sixth year. The one that had all of the side notes in it."

Ginny sat back in her seat and took a small bite from her sandwich as she considered what Harry had told her. Ginny's face wrinkled as if she was trying to remember something that she wasn't sure had actually happened. "But you didn't have that book for a long time, right? You left it in the Room of Requirement, didn't you? So you or no one would find it again?"

Harry scratched the back of his head. He forgot to tell his wife that one special detail where the book came back to him. "Yeah, I did, but a couple of years ago, it came in the mail when you were away with the kids visiting your mum and dad."

Ginny looked like she didn't believe what Harry was telling her. "Oh, really? How did someone find it, then? Who sent it?"

"I don't know how someone found it. I have some ideas about who might have found it, but it's impossible..." Harry said as he slowly started to open the letter. He didn't think that anyone else knew of the book, or who it had belonged to, except Ron and Hermione. He had asked them both, but it was to no avail. The only other person who would know about it was the Half-Blood Prince himself. But he was _dead_, so it was impossible. Harry shook his head. "I have no idea who sent it."

He pulled the parchment free from the envelope, and read what his son had wrote him. His hypothesis was correct; it was about the book. But Harry wasn't worried, he was intrigued. He had been thinking a lot about his old Potions Master lately, and about what he had left behind. Ever since Harry's mind was cleared after Voldemort fell, he wondered if Severus Snape, too, had made a Horcrux. Harry thought it was crazy, but after he received the book in the mail a couple of years back, it seemed like the only logical explanation. Especially with the letter that he held in his hand from his son.

He looked over at his wife who was staring at him, waiting for him to pass over the letter or tell her what he had just read, anything. Harry did not pass the piece of parchment over to her; he folded it tightly in his hands and placed it in his pocket. It was a while before he spoke. He had to make sure that he didn't give away too many details of what he picked up on in between the lines. He had a lot of research to do still, and he didn't want to worry Ginny. "Albus is experiencing weird things with the Potions book I gave him."

"Snape's?" Ginny asked, and she scooted so close to Harry that she was just barely sitting on her chair. When Harry nodded, she ran a hand through her dark red hair in thought. "Are we going to send him another?"

Al had asked for a new book, but Harry thought that wasn't a great idea. If he was to do research, he'd need Al to still have access to whatever memory was locked inside the Potions book. "I think we should wait."

"Harry, do you remember how evil that book _actually _was? How you nearly killed Malfoy just by doing what it said?" Ginny asked, raising her voice a bit at her husband. She didn't like that her son had such a dangerous book, and she especially did not want him using it. "I don't want Al to go through some of the same things we did when we grew too close to a magical object."

"I... don't think it possesses magic," Harry lied, and wondered if Ginny knew he was. "He's probably just going through the same things I was when I was using it. Rose and the twins are probably giving him a hard time. I am going to write to him."

"What are you going to say?" Ginny asked, and stood up when Harry did. She looked near furious when he shook his head, and pushed her back down into her chair. "What, you're not going to tell me, Harry? I'm your wife, and Al's my son, too."

Harry hesitated. He felt bad for doing this to Ginny, but for now, it had to remain a secret until he knew more. "Sorry, Gin. It's kinda private. I'll tell you what is happening when I find out more information," he promised, and left his wife alone in their family room.

*

Harry dug out a battered piece of yellowing parchment and a quill from deep inside his desk. He didn't have to think about what to write; he knew exactly what to say.

"_Dear Al,_

_I can't say I am surprised about your letter. I have thought for a long time, ever since the book was returned to me, that it was no longer just a textbook with handwritten notes. I am sorry to have put you in this kind of situation. I thought you would make use of the extra help unlike your brother or sister. I guess I just thought that it was fitting that I'd pass the book down to you. _

_I can't tell you too much information through my letter. If we can find some other way to contact – a privater way – then I will be able to tell you more, and why I think it important that you keep using the book. Do you have a scheduled trip to Hogsmeade any time soon? _

_All I can say is that I think that the Half-Blood Prince is alive and well. Scratch that; maybe not well, but I believe that he is definitely alive. And also, think of this book somewhat like the Riddle Diary your Mum and I told you about when we were at Hogwarts. Only, I can assure you, this isn't dangerous and safe to use. _

_Get back to me as soon as possible about that Hogsmeade trip. And write a small letter to your Mum to tell her you love her and all that. She feels a little left out and hurt, I think. _

_Love you, son,_

_Dad_"

He hoped that Al wouldn't think that he was being reckless or not caring enough when he said that the Potions book would be safe for him to use. He knew his son, and that Al was probably freaking out over what he discovered about the mysterious book.

Harry folded the piece of parchment at its middle, placed it in an envelope that was far too big, and scrawled "Albus Severus Potter, Hogwarts" across the front of it.

*

Al cursed under his breath when he got his father's letter. Did his Dad know how to read? This book _was _dangerous, and he was expecting him to still use it? Had his Dad gone mad?

Al felt like crying, he was so frustrated. He was also scared, because he didn't want to continue using the book. He didn't want to travel back and forth between one time period and another, and if this book was anything like that demonic diary his mother was possessed by, then he wanted to march right down to the Headmaster's office and stab the thing a hundred times with the Sword of Godric Gryffindor, just to make sure it was properly destroyed.

He breathed angrily, his nostrils flaring, and he grabbed a spare piece of parchment. He scribbled across it recklessly, his ink pooling in spots where he pressed down too hard.

"_Dad,_

_My next Hogsmeade trip is in three days. I'll be waiting for you outside of the Three Broomsticks._

_Al"_

He couldn't think of anything else to say. He was far too angry with his father, but he knew he couldn't be cruel to him. He grabbed another piece of parchment, and wrote a quick note to his mother to tell her exactly what Harry had asked him to, and sent both of the letters to his parents immediately.


End file.
